


SNAFU

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-15
Updated: 2006-03-15
Packaged: 2018-08-16 06:15:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8090617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: (01/05/2003)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

The day started out pretty normal. Trip got up, had breakfast, and reported for duty in Engineering.

It had been pretty dull of late—not much happening as they crossed a mostly empty part of space. Trip figured that a lot of exploration was like that—moments of excitement interspersed with the tedium of the day-to-day running of the ship. Well, not tedium, exactly—Trip loved making sure that the Enterprise was in top- shape, engineering wise, and took pride in running a tight ship amongst the crew he was directly responsible for over-seeing. The routine was familiar, comfortable, but he did sometimes need a little excitement to spice things up. 'Course, when he got it, more times than not he'd be cussing and longing for an easy life.

The call to report to the Captain's Quarters came just after 6pm. Archer had been off duty for an hour—Trip had another half hour to go before clocking off.

He handed off to Fernandez, then headed up to Archer's quarters. The door slid open at his knock.

"C'pn?" He was still on duty, which meant that Jon was still Captain. At 18:30, Trip would feel comfortable to call his friend by his given name, instead of his rank.

"Hey, Trip." Jon was sitting, cross-legged, on the floor next to Porthos' basket. He looked tired, wrung out, and every single one of his 47 years showed on his face. "Have a seat."

"What's wrong, Jon?" Trip slipped into off-duty mode, sensing that Jon needed a friend, not a first-officer. "You look plain worn out."

"Nothing's wrong. I just—wanted a bit of company, of the non-canine variety. I figured as Captain, I could pull you off duty a half hour early."

"Ah, shit, I forgot. It's April 12th."

"Right. 10 years since my dad died." Jon scratched behind Porthos' ear, petting through his soft fur. "I just wondered if you felt like getting drunk with your captain and watching a bad cheesy movie." He gave his little boy smile, and knocked 15 years off his age. "So, whaddya say? We're both off-duty tomorrow, barring alien attack, so we can get rat-faced and not worry about getting up early." "I say ya got a deal. Just let me get into civvies, and we can have a movie night. Ya'll got popcorn, right?"

"Of course." The other man stood, his puppy cradled under his arm. He seemed awfully vulnerable standing there, dressed in soft cotton slacks and a tee. Not many people got to see this side of Captain Archer; this was the Jonathan that Trip had fallen for, hard, eight years back. "Thanks, Trip."

"Hey, don't thank me, I owe ya for getting me off shift thirty minutes early. I'll be right back." Trip clapped his friend on the back, and headed for his own quarters.

A quick shower and change of clothes later, he was back in Jon's room. The smell of caramel popcorn blended with the salt of warm pretzels. Jon had set two big bowls out on the table, and 2 tall glasses of beer were already poured.

Jon was busy searching through the movie database. "What do you feel like tonight? Action? Drama? Comedy? Romance?"

"How about all of the above?" _With you_ , Trip mentally added.

"What film fits into that category?" Jon looked up from his padd, eyebrow raised. "Any ideas?"

Trip peered over Jon's shoulder at the database. "I don't know. Let's just go for a big shoot-em-up. How about 'Die Hard'? I always liked that movie. The old ones are the best ones."

"'Die Hard' it is." Jon selected the movie, and the titles came up on the monitor. "Help yourself to a beer."

The two men sat at the table and watched the movie, Trip making comments about the women in the film, He didn't know why, but whenever he was around Jon, he had to overt-exert his 'heterosexuality'—despite the fact that Jon was fully aware he swung both ways—and make a big show out of being a ladies man, when all he wanted to do was wrap himself around Jon. Over compensating, probably—he knew that Jon would never go for it, and he was scared to fuck up their relationship by letting on that he was in love with him.

By the time the end credits rolled, both men were in the bag. Jon slouched low in the chair, his ass hanging off the edge, lower back supported by the seat. "I gotta sit somewhere more comf'able before I fall off this damned chair,' he grouched, just before the chair slipped backwards and he ended up flat on his butt. Trip just started laughing, and Jon shot him a look.

"You gonna help me get up, or what?" He extended a hand, and Trip took it in an effort to pull him to his feet. Instead, Jon put all his weight into dragging Trip out of his chair and onto the floor. "There," he announced, with immense satisfaction in his voice. "See how you like it."

Trip just looked at him from his prone position, still holding onto his hand. Jon looked gorgeous—his skin was touched with a flush of pink, his eyes were wide, and his hair dishevelled. He was completely and utterly fuckable, and Trip wanted him so bad that it hurt. The heat in his groin was turning into hardness, making it difficult for him to think clearly.

He leant forward and captured Jon's parted lips in a kiss. His mouth was soft and warm, and tasted like popcorn and beer. Jon didn't respond to the kiss, and Trip pulled back, mortified. "Oh, God, I'm sorry Jon, I—the beer..."

Jon pounced, grabbing the front of Trip's shirt and dragging him in for a soul-deep kiss, his tongue probing insistently. His free hand came up to cup the side of Trip's face, his thumb caressing his cheek.

Trip applied a little pressure until Jon had his back against the floor, and then lay alongside him, insinuating a leg between the other man's thighs. Jon moaned with desire, his back arching as Trip's hand brushed his crotch. Like Trip, his dick was in a similar state of arousal, rock hard and weeping.

"Oh, God, Jon, I've wanted you so much. You're so gorgeous."

Trip bent to the task of worshiping his lover, lavishing him with attention. He'd wanted this for so long that it had a dream like quality. How many times in his sleep had he been with Jon like this? Touched him just so, heard him groan passionately? He didn't know where the dreams stopped and reality began. "I want you to be mine." Jon suddenly froze, his questing hands stilled. He was suddenly, painfully sober as he sat up and skittered back from Trip's touch. "I—I can't. I can't, Trip." He retreated to his cot, huddling up against the pillows in a small knot of misery. "Please leave."

"Jon..."

"Trip, I—I need you to leave. Please."

Trip turned on his heel and left.

* * *

It had been almost a week since the incident in Jon's Quarters. Trip had kept his distance from his Captain—he was polite and courteous on duty, and just avoided him off-duty. Jon was snappish and cold, and not just with Trip—a lot of the crew were privately commenting on their Captain's demeanour of late. The Captain they all knew and loved—warm, friendly, and in possession of a sense of humor—had been replaced with a humourless automaton. Trip had had just about enough. The final straw was when Jon managed to make Hoshi cry at her console. He'd been bitching at her all day about a translation matrix that just wasn't playing nice, and when he snapped at her for the umpteenth time, she lost her professionalism and sobbed. Just once, and muffled, but it pissed Trip off. Hoshi didn't deserve to be on the receiving end of Jon's bullshit. He'd been up on the bridge all day putting in some upgrades, and Jon had been acting like a Grade A Asshole.

Luckily, it was close to the end of the shift. When the Beta shift came on to relieve the primary crew for the evening shift, Hoshi all but ran for the turbo lifts, instead of lingering to chat with the oncoming crew. Jon stomped off to the other lift. As the doors slid closed, Trip caught a good look at his Captain's face—the mask crumbled, and a hurt man stared out, eyes filled with pain. He decided it was time to have it out with Jon. The situation couldn't carry on like this; it wasn't doing anyone any good. He stormed up to Jon's room. "Jon, it's Trip, and you'd damned well better let me in otherwise I'm taking out the damn door." The door opened, and Trip stepped in. What he saw shocked him. He'd never seen Jon like this. He looked so—small, dressed in his pyjama bottoms and barefooted. He was on his bed, curled in on himself, his knees clasped to his chest. What could reduce such a confident, vital man to this? The starlight filtering in through the windows lit the dark room enough that Trip could see tears sparkling on Jon's eyelashes.

"Jon?" All anger gone, Trip approached the man cautiously. "Jon, talk to me. Tell me what's wrong."

Mute, Jon shook his head, turning his face away.

Perching on the end of the bed, Trip studied his friend. "Somethin's botherin' you. And I'm not leaving this room until you tell me. You've been actin' like an uptight asshole ever since we realised we could be somethin' more than friends." That got a laugh, however bitter. "I've been acting like an 'uptight asshole'? Did you ever stop to consider that maybe I have a good reason?"

"Damnit, yes! Why in the hell do you think I asked you? What's wrong?" Trip tried to keep his voice calm, but it wasn't easy. He was in sight of what he'd wanted for years, and it was quickly slipping through his fingers. "Come on, Jonny. Don't you trust me?"

"Jonny?" Jon echoed, softly.

"Yeah. I think it suits you. Now, quit stallin' and talk to me. Tell me why us kissing freaked you out."

Jon began to cry, and the tears that had threatened rolled down his face unchecked. "I can't." At a look from Trip, he took a deep breath. "Trip—I—I was raped." As soon as he said it, relief settled on his face.

"You were—but you're..."

"A Starfleet Captain? A man? Your friend?" Archer filled in. "Yeah. But it happened."

"When?" All Trip wanted to do was reach out and hug Jon, but that would be the completely wrong thing to do."

"Nine years ago." Jon scrubbed at his face.

"That was, what, three months before we met? Did you tell anyone?" "No. I didn't even go to hospital, though I needed to."

"You could have told me. I didn't know you at the time, but I could have helped you after."

"And have you treat me like damaged goods? No thanks. I dealt with it." He gave a humourless chuckle, and patted the bed for Porthos to jump up. " At least, I thought I had. I threw myself into getting Enterprise ready for her maiden voyage. Made work my life. Eventually got bored of being by myself and got a dog." He paused. "You want to know how it happened." He didn't wait for an answer. "I was stupid. I'd just split up with Joanna, I told you about her, and I was depressed and horny and just felt like meeting some guy and fucking his brains out."

"What?" Trip almost choked.

"Yeah, I'm bi, Trip. You're not the first man I fell in love with. I went to a bar, drank too much, got sick, and decided to head home. But a guy followed me. He broke into my apartment and raped and beat me."

"Shit, Jonny. You should have reported it."

"It would have gone on my record. I never would have gotten this command if Starfleet knew. Who wants an emotionally scarred Captain? They know I like men as well as women—that came up in my psychological screening back when I first joined Starfleet, it's not like it's a problem anymore. But if they knew that I'd been raped—they'd never have let me anywhere near this ship, or any other. I'd have been shunted off somewhere to push paper."

"Jon, that wouldn't have happened. They'd have got you some counselling, prosecuted the guy—I mean, you never reported it. He didn't pay for what he did to you."

"Oh, he paid. Two weeks before I went off on a training assignment to Titan. Where I met you, remember? I beat the shit out of him. I mean, 'really' beat him. Put him in hospital." Jon had gradually uncurled, stretching his long legs out along the bed until his feet were pressed against Trip's thigh. There was something oddly innocent about his bare toes, and Trip placed a gentle hand on Jon's leg.

"You didn't get caught?"

"I'm here, aren't I? I threatened to strap him to the hull of the Vulcan starship and use him as a hood ornament." Jon moved down the bed to sit next to Trip. "I know this sounds stupid. But—uh—could I have a hug?"

"Sure."

Jon pillowed his head on Trip's thigh, turned in towards him in a sweet gesture of trust. Trip placed one hand against Jon's broad back, and the other in his hair.

"I'm scared, Trip," Jon whispered. "I've avoided relationships for all this time. I'm not sure I can be with someone anymore."

"I know you're scared, Jonny. But you know that I'm not going to hurt you, right?"

"Right." Jon looked up at him. His green eyes were still troubled. "Charlie, I'm not going to lie to you. Any intimate relationship with me isn't going to be easy. I come with a lot of baggage."

"Baggage that I'm more than willing to carry. And I kinda like you callin' me Charlie." He petted through Jon's dark hair, noticing for the first time that blond streaks hid amongst the uniform chestnut. "You can trust me when I say I'm gonna look after you. I'm not going to do anything to hurt you."

"I trust you. Kiss me?" Taking a deep breath, Jon sat up and pressed a soft kiss against Trip's lips. It was chaste and sweet and loving.

Jon broke it off just as they started getting hot and heavy. "That's—that's enough. I'm sorry, but I can't go too fast, Charlie."

Trip soothed him, brushing his lips against the broad forehead. "Don't apologise. You set the pace."

They spent the rest of the evening just holding each other.

* * *

Trip knew that Jonny had something planned. All day, the Captain had been eyeing Trip with a distinctly unprofessional gleam in his eye, and at dinner—which, thankfully, had only been attended by the two of them—Jon had sported a semi-erection throughout. He looked distinctly predatory, as though he was about to pounce at any second, and he'd been spending an unusual amount of time in engineering.

It had been two days since Jon's confession, and his demeanour had changed once again to that of his usual affable self. He'd apologised to the crew for his shitty behaviour, explaining that it had been the anniversary of his father's death and that it'd had affected him more than he realised. The crew were tolerant of their captain, and certainly didn't hold the little incident against him. Jon had also had Hoshi in for dinner last night, and made his peace with her. The two had a relationship that went back further than Jon and Trip's—Jon had known Hoshi since she graduated Grade School, and had been the one to encourage her to study exo-lingustics. Jon had told Trip all this before the dinner. And he also said that he wanted to tell Hoshi about their relationship. Hoshi knew that he liked guys—in fact, she'd been insisting for months that Trip was perfect for Jon, not knowing that her friend and Captain was among the walking wounded when it came to relationships. So Jon told her everything—about the rape, and about freaking out when he realised that Trip was interested. Hoshi had cried a little, and then clapped her hands when Jon said that he was going to try and make a relationship with Trip. She'd hugged her Captain and then her commander with girlish enthusiasm, before promising that she wouldn't tell anyone.

Trip knew that Hoshi had picked up on the vibe coming from the Captain, because she'd caught Trip's eye on one of his frequent visits to the bridge, and grinned knowingly at him. He'd shot her a warning look, and she assumed an air of innocence.

The end of shift finally came, and Jon came down to engineering. "Wondered if you'd join me for a drink, commander?"

"Sure thing, C'pn. Just give me a minute to wash up and..."

Trip trailed off as Jon leaned forward and whispered in his ear. "I want you to fuck me, Trip. Now."

"Here?" Trip squeaked, his shock making him sound pre- pubescent.

"My Quarters. Five minutes." Jon turned on his heel and practically skipped out of engineering.

"Oh, boy," muttered Trip, dry-mouthed.

Before he knew it, he was standing outside Jon's door again, something which was becoming all too familiar an occurrence. Jon had set the scene inside. Candles—which, strictly speaking, shouldn't be there—stood around the room, bathing it in a soft light. He'd pulled the blankets back on the bed.Jon opened his arms to Trip. "Come here."

Trip obliged, loosing himself in Jon's embrace. He was vaguely aware of Jon unzipping his uniform, and obligingly stepped out of it. He'd not bothered with the tank top that morning, and Jon was exploring his chest.

"My turn," Trip whispered, reverently unzipping Jon's uniform and pushing it off of his shoulders. He pulled it down until the other man could free himself from the fabric pooled around his ankles. Parting Jon from his clothes was like unwrapping a multi- layered gift. First the uniform, followed by the black undershirt, before stripping him of the bright blue tank top. That left him clad only in the tight knit Starfleet issue jockeys.

Trip kissed his way up Jon's body, tasting him with darts of his tongue. He tasted of salt and heat, his skin soft. Jon pulled him close for a kiss, lips working hungrily. His fingers tangled in Trip's hair, threading through the short strands. He took two steps back until his calves hit the bed. He fell backwards and Trip ended up stretched out on top of him.

"I'm too heavy, Jon," he said, as he tried to roll over so that they were both on their sides, but Jon just held him tight. "No. No, you're not too heavy. Just—I need you near. Let me be in control. Please." He wrapped a leg around Trip. "I need you _in_ me."

That Jon was happy to let Trip play Alpha male came as something of a surprise. When Jon had asked Trip to let him be in control, he'd assumed that Jon would be the top. But control could mean so many things, the right to choose being one aspect. "You sure about this, Jonny?" Trip stroked the soft curve of his lover's lips. "I don't want to rush you. You gotta set the pace." "I'm sure, " Jon assured him. "You want to put that finger to use, lover?" He thrust his hips up against Trip's, their erections grinding against each other.

Trip gasped. "Sure do." He picked up the lube from the shelf above Jon's bed, and coated his fingers, warming the gel. "If you have second thoughts about this, be sure and tell me, y'hear?"

" _In_ me, Charlie, and that's an order." Archer slipped his briefs off, flinging them across the room, leaving him gloriously naked against the burgundy cotton. "I've wanted you all day."

"Oh, God, yessir." Trip went diligently to work, pushing Jon's legs wide apart, exposing the man's most private place. With careful, considerate touches, he prepared his lover for longer than was strictly necessary, slicking his insides with the lube. Jon's last time with a man had bad associations, and Trip wanted to ensure that this time, it was as painless as possible, and that meant a thorough, languorous preparation.

Jon was practically bucking off of the bed by the time Trip was ready, begging his lover to make love to him.

Trip obliged, entering Jon inch by excruciating inch, resisting the urge to thrust his way in. He studied Jon's face intently, watching for any sign of discomfort. He saw nothing but pleasure. Jon's head was thrown back to its fullest extent, the tendons in his neck taut and straining. His Adams Apple bobbed as he swallowed in convulsive pleasure. He let out a little gasp as Trip completed the penetration, fingers clutching at his shoulders. The faintest flicker of pain touched his features, which were flushed pink beneath a patina of sweat.

"I'm hurting you." Trip made as if to pull out, and Jon stopped him, holding him in place with his leg, and clenching his internal muscles around him.

"No. It's just been a while. I'm fine. Stop, and I'll have to kill you." Jon began to move against him, undulating his pelvis. "Feels so good, Charlie. Make love to me." He cooed sweet endearments, his strong, yet soft hands stroking and clutching and petting in all the right places.

Trip began to thrust, slowly at first before gaining in speed and intensity. Jon talked to him, honey sweet voice urging him to greater depth.

Trip nudged up against Jon's prostate, and the older man came with a fierce cry, his orgasm triggering Trip's own.

Trip collapsed on top of Jon, who accepted the weight of his lover into warm, comforting arms.

"If you built Starfleet engines the way you fuck, we'd be at warp 20 by now," Jon panted, his fingers tracing intricate patterns up and down the length of Trip's spine. His other hand rested on Trip's ass, squeezing and caressing. He was a very tactile man. "That was amazing."

"It was, wasn't it?" Trip rolled off, and dropped his head against Jon's chest, secure in the circle of his arms. "We shoulda done this sooner. Like eight years ago."

"Yeah." Jon put a finger beneath Trip's chin and tilted his head back, bestowing a kiss. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Just thank you. You know how scared I was. You took that away." Some of the hurt had left Jon's eyes—he didn't look as haunted. "I love you, you know."

"I know." Trip stroked Jon's chest, fingers catching in the hair there. "I love you, too."

Jon gave a soft chuckle of amusement. "Listen to us. We're an item, Trip. Wanna go steady?"

"Sure do." Trip looked up at his lover. "So, what are we going to go about the rest of the crew?"

"Well, this bed isn't big enough for all of them..."

"Jon -"

"We tell them. It's not like it's a big deal, Charlie."

"The Captain shacking up with his engineer isn't a big deal?"

"Not according to Hoshi. After dinner last night, she told me that the crew have been running a pool on when we would give in and get together."

"They—they what?" Trip spluttered.

"Yep. Apparently, the pool has been running for about 8 months. I guess Reed wins." Jon wiggled up the bed, tugging Trip with him.

"What about Starfleet?"

"Screw Starfleet."

"Starfleet's pretty big, Jonny, take you a long time to screw 'em." Trip linked his fingers through Jon's left hand. "Think Porthos will accept me as part of your family?"

"Sure he will." Jon raised Trip's hand to his lips. "Stay with me, Charlie. I need you."

"Forever, Jon," Trip promised. "Forever."


End file.
